


i think i need you

by nicawrites



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 17:15:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/652580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicawrites/pseuds/nicawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis needs a friend and Greg is there for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i think i need you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [whatdreamsmaycome](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdreamsmaycome/gifts).



> Basically this took me months and months and I begun to hate life half way through because I couldn't finish it then proof reading got annoying and just... I'm glad it's finally finished. And I hope at least one person enjoys reading it otherwise I would cry. Kidding. But yeah enjoy. :)

When Greg hears the faint knock on his door, it’s dark outside. He’s still awake, and has been for hours, watching old reruns of That 70’s Show on tv, not noticing the hours tick by. But for some reason the knock on the door reminds him of just how late it’s gotten, and suddenly he’s very aware of the hour. He throws his blanket off himself, leaving the tv running, and goes to answer the front door, his sock-clad feet shuffling across the floor. Louis is standing there, his hair drowned by rain. And huh, Greg hadn’t even realized it’d been raining. 

“I didn’t know where else to go,” Louis says as soon as Greg wipes his startled expression off his face and smiles, because really, he hadn’t expected Louis to come over so late at night. Heck, he didn’t really expect Louis to come over at all. They’d hung out once, or twice maybe, and seen each other at events. And sure, they’d been close when they had seen each other, and they’d texted a bit since exchanging phone numbers at radio 1, but still, Greg wasn’t sure they were actual friends.

But apparently Louis thought they were, and hey, Greg wasn’t going to argue with that. He widens the space in the doorway, letting Louis come inside, and Louis comes in easily, as if something is bothering him. “You can come here as much as you need, Louis, doors always open,” Greg says, watching Louis as he kicks off his muddy shoes and shakes out his hair. Louis’ wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans now, no socks. Louis smiles up to him, and Greg closes the door, suddenly cold. 

“Thanks,” Louis smiles weakly, wrapping his arms around himself. “I know it’s...I know it’s weird. And I could have called or something. But I really just...I didn’t know where to go tonight.”

Greg rests his hand down on Louis, his palm walm against the younger man’s shoulder. “It’s fine, honestly,” Greg promises, and it’s true. The hallway is enlightened by the overhead light, glowing, and the murmurs of the tv in the other room is still faint in the background. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Louis shakes his head. “Not yet,” he says. “But soon, yes.” And who cares if Greg notices how blue Louis’ eyes look when they're lit by the flickering television. It doesn’t mean anything. 

Greg nods, giving Louis’ shoulder one last squeeze before he drops his hand to his side. “Want a cuppa then?” Greg suggests, gesturing towards the kitchen, where a light has been left on. Louis smiles warmly at him, and that sparks something inside Greg that he’s entirely sure he couldn’t name even if he tried.

“Tea sounds lovely,” Louis agrees, still wearing that smile Greg finds himself more, and more captivated by with every second passing. They walk through to the kitchen, Louis poking his head around the tv room door as they pass, and grinning at the program playing on the tv.

Greg blushes scarlet. “It’s late. They’re just reruns,” he uses as an excuse, and Louis ‘hmm's’ him, clearly teasing. 

They make tea in silence. Louis wanders aimlessly around the kitchen, flipping open cabinets and peering at what’s inside, as if he belongs. Greg doesn’t mind though, at all, because really, all he wants is for Louis to feel welcome. The tea is warm when Greg serves it, steaming from the mug, and Louis point-blankly refuses to add sugar, claiming that the taste is ruined by it. 

Fifteen minutes later, a packet of biscuits half eaten and their mugs drained, Greg looks across the kitchen table at Louis, who’s sitting on his stool, chewing idly at a biscuit. “So, do you want to talk yet?” he asks, and then watches as Louis’ head snaps up. Louis looks startled for a moment, as if he weren’t expecting the question, but Greg smiles encouragingly, taking a bite of his own biscuit. “Only if you want to, Louis. I just want to know what I can do.”

Louis is silent for a moment, and all that either can hear is the sound of the rain still drizzling outside. “I couldn’t go home,” Louis barely whispers; his voice is so low Greg finds himself leaning forward over the bench, just to make sure he can hear him. “I just...I can’t go home and be by myself anymore. And I know it’s stupid, I do, but I spent the whole day out with El and I just...I didn’t want to go home to an empty house.”

Greg understands, more than he thinks anyone else would. See, he knows that Eleanor’s just there for the public, Louis had outrightly told him the first time they’d met on the radio show. He hadn’t had a choice really, because Greg...he just kept asking about his girlfriend. So while a song was playing, Louis just told him the truth. Just like that. It hadn’t been a problem at all, not really. Greg just smiled, and promised he wouldn't mention it again. And that was that.

“No, I get it,” Greg says, and stretches his hand across the table so his fingers rest on Louis’ forearm. “But as I said, the door’s always open, so I’m always here.”

Louis ducks his head, half-smiling. “Thank you, really.” Louis’ voice is soft, charming, and Greg’s entirely sure this is a different side of Louis - one that he hasn’t seen before - one that the public rarely sees either. “That means... It means a lot.” 

“You’re welcome,” Greg replies, and runs his fingers run gently along Louis’ forearm, touching his golden skin. The younger man flinches slightly, before relaxing into the touch. Louis then moves his arm away, shimmying it down so his hand is splayed across the table, beside Greg’s. They both look at their hands a moment - how Louis’ are so small, so delicate compared to the other males - and then they touch, hardly, but they do. 

Louis smiles at the motion, letting his pinky rest easily beside Greg’s. “This means a lot,” Louis says again, just to get his point across. His eyes are shimmering blue, watching Greg with such utter admiration that the older man can’t help but smile at. Simply smile. “This really means a lot. Letting me come over.”

“I know it does,” Greg says, because he can see in Louis’ eyes just how much this means to him. “I know.”

 

\---

 

It then sort of becomes a common thing, Louis turning up at Greg’s unannounced. Sometimes it’s to talk, sometimes its to ask something but sometimes, sometimes it’s just an excuse to be there, around Greg. It’s weird, really, how close Greg feels to Louis after three short weeks, majority filled with Louis being away for promo, and him taking extra shifts down at the radio station. Because regardless of their schedules, they’d both somehow made time for one another. Time to make a new friend.

Because that was what Greg could call Louis now, a friend. 

And it’s only when Louis turns up to Greg’s place with a bottle of wine on a Friday night, his eyes red from crying, that Greg realizes how reliant he’s become on Louis -- and how reliant Louis has become of him. Louis smiles weakly at him, handing the bottle over, and steps inside without a word, and Greg follows him through into the lounge room, only stopping to get them both some glasses from the cabinet. 

It’s silent for a while, and Greg pops the cork out of the wine bottle, pouring them both a glass. Louis is quick to finish his drink, pouring himself another while Greg is still on his first. 

“So,” Greg says, when Louis seems to be less tense, easing into the comfort of the couch. “Want to talk?”

Louis shrugs his shoulders, taking another sip from his glass. “Not particularly, no.”

And Greg lets it go, and sits back in the cushions he’s piled on top of. He can hear his washing machine down the hallway, clanking and turning with the load he’d put on under an hour ago, and he can hear the roar of wind outside the window, hitting against the glass. “Okay,” he says. “We don’t have to talk.”

Then Louis looks at him properly for the first time that night. His lips are purple (from the cold, maybe) and his hands are restless in his lap, gripping onto his glass, but what Greg really notices is how regardless of his bloodshot eyes, Louis’ iris’ are still as blue as ever. They’re still glimmering with sparks of light that Greg has grown to adore. “Thanks,” Louis says, and as if magic, he’s suddenly more comfortable. “Want to watch TV?”

Greg is startled by Louis’ change for a moment, but he plays along, handing over the remote to Louis. He assumes Louis just needed to know someone was there for him, to listen, even if he felt ready to or not, and he hopes Louis now knew that he was going to be there for him always. Because he was; he wouldn’t lie about something like that. 

“Anythings good?”

Greg smiles at Louis, who has found old reruns of friends playing on some cable channel.

“Anything's fine,” he promises, resting his arm along the back of the couch, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. Louis grins, putting down the remote and shuffling himself closer to Greg, resting his head down on the older man’s shoulder.

“I like this show,” Louis murmurs sometime later, sighing contently because Greg’s managed to get his hand into Louis’ hair, playing lightly with the strands. Greg can feel Louis’ heartbeat beneath the cotton of his shirt. He looks down at Louis, whose eyes are glued to the TV, but for some reason he can still feel Louis looking at him. 

Greg tugs Louis in closer, making himself more comfortable. “I know you do.”

Louis is content, his breath steadying, and Greg is pretty sure he’s not nearly as worked up as he was before. Their glasses of wine are finished, resting on the floor beside their feet. Soon, the television credits roll out over the screen, and an episode of Prison Break begins playing. Louis makes a sour sound in his mouth, reaching for the remote to turn the show off, and Greg laughs lightly at how much Louis doesn’t want to watch a cop show.

When the television is finally switched off, both men sit there silently, looking aimlessly around the room. It’s quiet, but it’s not tense or awkward. In fact, it’s rather peaceful, relaxing.

“Do you want to talk yet?” Greg asks, and Louis looks at him with this look that makes Greg know that he does. His eyes are creased in the corner, and for the first time, Greg notices the lighter freckles that are spread across Louis’ nose. 

“He uses me, all the time,” Louis says, his voice on edge.

Greg reaches forward and rests his hand on Louis’ thigh. “Who?” he says gently.

Louis looks a little flabbergasted, as if he doesn’t want to talk about it. Either that, or he’s not ready to talk about it yet, even if he thought he was. He looks sideways, trying to distract himself with the pictures Greg has spread across his mantlepiece, but fails miserably, turning back to Greg with a sad smile. “Liam,” he whispers.

Greg is silent for a moment, because honestly, he wasn’t expecting that. He’s heard about the One Direction bromances, of course, he works with Nick, but honestly, the idea that they could be real never actually registered in his mind. He runs his thumb over Louis’ knee. “Liam uses you?” he asks, just to make sure.

“He...he said it would be different after Danielle,” Louis says and his voice breaks on the final word, as if it’s the first time he’s admitted it aloud. “But it’s not. It’s exactly the same. Nothing’s changed.”

And Greg thinks he understands. He thinks he understands that Louis had something with Liam, and Liam has left him. Finally, Louis’ sour talk about Danielle hanging around with Eleanor in front of the cameras makes sense. Because what person would want their fake-girlfriend hanging around with their lovers real-girlfriend? Because regardless of Eleanor, and her being for the public, Greg was pretty sure Danielle and Liam had been the real deal (had, meaning before their break-up. That’d been in the papers for a week). Unless, of course, there was more that Greg didn’t know.

Greg pulls Louis into his side again, kissing the younger man’s forehead. “He’s a jerk then,” Greg says, knowing it may not help, but also knowing it’s the least he can do. “If he gave you up, he’s a jerk.”

Louis sniffles, and Greg’s heart sinks, because Louis is crying. “He was never even with me though,” Louis says, his words coming out choked up and broken. “We were never together, never anything more than a night on the tour bus or at the hotel.”

It’s quiet for a while, neither man speaking. But then Louis looks up, his tears beginning to dry in streaks down his cheeks. 

“It’ll be okay, you know?” Greg says, trying to break the silence. His fingers run across the span of Louis’ back comfortingly. “If he doesn’t want you, it’s not worth it. You deserve to be happy Louis.”

Louis stifles a sniffle. “I just thought it would finally be different,” he admits, wiping the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “I thought maybe I’d have something more than...fake.”

“You will,” Greg assures him. “I promise.”

Louis looks up to Greg, awed. “Really?” he asks. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Greg says, smiling, and uses his own thumb to brush Louis’ hair away from his eyes. “I really, really do.”

 

\---

 

The next time they see each other, they’re both at radio one. It wasn’t planned, not at all, but Greg is sitting down at his desk sorting through some paperwork for his show, and he looks up, spotting Louis and Harry running straight past him, down the hallway towards the studio, where Nick is currently on air. He sits up straighter in his chair, glancing down the hall where the two teenagers have just disappeared, and hears a vague shout of “Grimmy, I love you, I’m your biggest fan!” from a voice that he’s entirely sure belongs to Harry.

He stands up without thinking, really, and follows. Half way down the hall he realizes how stupid it is, that he’s following Louis around the studio to say hello when they’ve got plans to hang out tomorrow, but he can’t exactly help it, he wants to see him.

Besides, Louis is at his workplace, so he can’t be to blame, can he?

When he’s outside the door to the studio, he can hear a loud bash of something from inside the door, and then the screech of a office chair spinning across the studio, and finally, “Oh my god Harry we’re on air what the hell,” coming from Nick, along with the laughter of everyone else inside the room.

And when he finally opens the door, he can’t help but laugh along as well, because Harry is sitting on Nick’s lap, pressing random buttons and changing the song every ten or so seconds. Across the room, he gets a wave from a few familiar coworkers, and he smiles back, raising his hand. He’s about to turn and leave, since well, Louis doesn’t seem to be here anymore, when he gets a pat on the shoulder from someone behind him. And well, it’s Louis.

“Come to see me, did you?” Louis smiles, and steps back into the hallway, where he’d just come from. 

Greg follows Louis out of the studio, and into the hall as well, closing the door behind him. “I could ask you the same question, you know, since I do work here,” Greg says with a small smirk, and laughs as Louis’ cheeks flush a light shade of pink. “What are you and Harry doing here anyway?” 

Louis leans back against the white, brick wall that lines the corridors, looking across at Greg with an utterly endearing look. “Harry said I had to get out of the house,” he says, slightly ashamed. “He was...was sick of me moping and came over to make sure I got out. And apparently him and Nick have a lunch planned for this arvo so he thought we might as well just drop by early.”

“Isn’t it like, good to mope around the house after that though?” Greg asks, turning back to the door to make sure no one else was listening into their conversation. No one was. “I mean, I know you weren’t dumped or anything, but isn’t it only right to be allowed to be sad for a day or so?”

Louis looks up at Greg guiltily before mumbling. “It’s been nearly a week now, though, hasn’t it? Not just a few days.”

“That’s not bad!” Greg exclaims encouragingly. “Really, Louis. You should be allowed to mope and eat ice-cream all day.”

Louis smiles at Greg, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes. “You’re right, I know, but I mean...he’s my best friend. There’s no saying no to Harry. When he says up, you get up.” Louis is blushing still, his cheeks tinged a pale pink, and he’s looking across at Greg in a way that...well, Greg can’t seem to think straight when Louis is looking at him like that. “But yeah, I thought at least I’d be able to see you down here. So I came.”

“You came because of me?” Greg teases, pinching Louis’ stomach playfully. “Well if I had of known you were coming to see me I would have worn a nicer shirt for you!”

Louis smacks Greg’s hand away from his stomach. “Don’t be daft, that’s your favourite shirt,” he mumbles, pulling at Greg’s outrageously coloured sleeve. “Besides, you were looking for me as well. When you saw I was here. Don’t lie.” 

Greg only laughs. “Yeah, I suppose I was,” he says, and Louis smiles at him knowingly, his eyes twinkling. There’s a brief silence when both men just look at one another. But it’s comfortable. Then, “want to go wait for Harry in the kitchen, then? I mean, I could use a cuppa...”

Louis stands up straight, flattening out his shirt, and running a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he agrees, “a cuppa sounds amazing.”

 

\---

 

It turns out, Greg notices, that Louis wasn't only pedantic about his tea that first time at his house. Because now, from where they're standing beside one another at the counter in the kitchen, he's entirely sure that Louis is making the biggest fuss over a pot of tea that he's ever seen. 

Louis huffs, drowning his tea bag into his mug of boiling water. "I can't believe this is all you guys have," Louis complains childishly, sinking down into his chair. "How do you get through radio shows with such crap?" A light bulb flickers above Louis, crackling as it died out. "Come on Greg, this is ridiculous."

Greg laughs and makes his own cup. It's warm in his hand as he goes and sits down in the chair opposite Louis. "You're such a pop star, Mr Tomlinson, such a pop star," he teases. "I can't believe you are so distraught over the state of this kitchen."

"I was at home mourning my heartbreak over ice cream and proper tea, don't blame me for wanting more than this." Louis takes a sip of his tea, scowling at the horrid taste. Greg would have been offended at the comment, had Louis not been laughing through his words, a bright smile spread across his lips. "You, Mr James, should appreciate a pop star like me wanting to come see you at all, really."

Greg smiles at Louis, unable to keep his eyes off him, and watches as he runs his fingers through his hair, pushing his fringe back. Louis has this little half smile spread across his cheeks, lighting up his features with a clear view of his white pearls, and a tint of pink heating his cheeks. It's funny really, that Greg keeps noticing these small things about Louis that he normally wouldn't have paid mind to. But now, with Louis so close, trying to shove the sugar from his hands, laughing about how Greg didn't need it, he couldn't help but observe the other fully, and just smile.

Louis makes an angry little huff in the back of his throat when Greg puts two spoonfuls of sugar into his tea, but falls back into his chair, away from little table that sits in the middle of the room. It's a small little kitchen, tiny really, and clearly, from the state of it, none of the people working I'm the building really use it, instead opting to dine at the cafe across town. But Louis and Greg make do, because to Greg, it's not so much about the tea or food, it's about seeing Louis. "I can't believe you like that," Louis says, taking a sip from his mug and pushing the packet of sweet biscuits across the table for Greg. "I mean...it isn’t necessary is it?"

Greg picks up a biscuit and drowns it in his tea. "I can't believe you _don't'_ like sugar in your tea.” Greg winks at Louis, chewing loudly just to piss him off. "You're extremely fussy for a man who likes butter and peanut butter together - in one sandwich."

"Fussy for a normal person, or completely sane of a millionaire pop star?" Louis asks, smirking, and brings his scorching hot tea to his lips again. It's hot when he swallows, but he sighs in contentment from the familiar taste of his usual drink. Because regardless of where he makes his tea, Louis knows how to prepare the perfect cup.

Greg looks at Louis in amazement, just for a moment, and feels his cheeks flame up under the gaze Louis is throwing his way. It's this sort of tilted-lip, creased-eyes look, and Louis' smiling at him in a way that Greg is entirely sure he's never seen come from anyone before - especially Louis. He coughs slightly, trying to avert his attention to something other than the other, and places his mug down on the table. "You're nuts," he mumbles, leaning back in his chair, and scrapping the legs of his chair along the tiled floor. "Absolutely bonkers you are."

Louis smiles widely at him. "Bonkers for tea."

Greg laughs quietly under his breath, trying to withhold an enormous smile from breaking across his face. But even with his efforts, he can feel his lips beginning to part and his teeth beginning to show as he smiles. They're both silent for a moment, just looking at one another and blinking every once in awhile, and it stays that way until Greg looks properly at Louis, and watches as he continues to look up towards the clock. 

"Nick finishes at ten," Greg points out, and looks up at the clock where it's just struck 9:55. Louis nods, but doesn't say anything. "You still going out for lunch with them? Still going to be the third-wheel on their date?" Greg asks and listens as Louis muffles a laugh into his sleeve. 

"I'm not going to be a third wheel.” He finishes off his tea, licking across his lips to catch a falling droplet. “Because you’re coming with us.” Louis looks up at Greg and away from the clock, catching his eyes with his own. “Please. You can’t expect me to go by myself and watch them get all close and cuddly in the booth and just...sit there.”

And Greg knows without even thinking about it that he’s going to say yes to Louis. It’s become so natural to do things for the other that he physically cannot imagine himself saying no to the younger male. So he stands up, and reaches a hand across the table to take Louis’ own, which Louis extends easily for Greg to take. 

“Sure,” Greg says, a tint of happiness in his voice, that definitely wasn’t there earlier. “I’ll come on Harry and Nick’s date with you.”

And, Greg thinks, maybe that means they're going on a date as well. Going out for lunch could be a date, right? Sitting together, squished into the same booth. Yeah, that could definitely be a date.

But then Louis is talking about his upcoming tour, and how Niall had stolen his last pair of socks this morning, and Greg realizes that this is the same as always - the same as Louis is with all his friends. Because that’s what Greg is, he remembers, a friend. 

 

\---

 

It’s strange how comfortable Greg finds himself when all four of them are huddled into a booth at McDonalds, stealing from one another’s chips, and taking a sip of whatever drink was closest at the time. Because Nick, Harry and Louis have known each other for a while now - heck, Nick and Harry are dating - and Louis is Harry’s best friend. And regardless of the fact Greg works with Nick, they’ve never exactly been bff's before, or hung out without a bunch of other co-workers. But now, sitting around and watching Nick squirm and mush his face into Harry’s neck as he laughs, he can’t help but think he’s meeting a whole new Nick. Someone who, really, he wouldn’t mind getting to know more. 

Greg doesn’t notice he’s zoned out completely until he feels someone kick him from underneath the table, and quickly, he snaps his eyes up, looking at them all. Nick and Harry have turned into one another, Harry trying to shove a piece of lettuce into Nick’s burger, and Nick pulling away as if he’s being forced poison. Then, Greg sees Louis, looking at him from his side, and god, he looks good right now. 

Wait - what?

Greg feels his cheeks heat up at the thought of Louis looking good (even though he does; Greg just doesn’t exactly want to admit that to himself right now). Then Louis’ foot nudges his own beneath the table, hooking around his ankle. Louis smiles, taking a spoonful of his chocolate sundae. “You’re okay being here, right?” Louis looks concerned, his eyebrows slightly furrowed as he licks his spoon. “You can go, if you’re bored.”

Shaking his head, Greg puts down his soda. “I’m fine Louis, really,” he promises, and brushes the toe of his shoe along Louis’ skin, where he’s jeans are rolled up. “I promise I’m having fun. It’s nice getting out of the office.”

“It is!” Nick bursts in from across the table, spitting the piece of lettuce Harry has managed to shove into his mouth into a napkin. “Even if I had to endure the end of my show with a Styles on my knee.” 

Harry gapes his mouth open, and pokes his tongue out at Nick. “You love me though?” And Harry says it so its more a question than anything.

Nick grins, and leans next to him, kissing Harry’s cheek softly. “I do. Never think I don’t.” He pauses, thinking. “Just don’t change the song during my favourite song next time, okay?” And Harry nods in agreement, leaning into Nick’s side, snuggling up.

For a moment, Greg finds himself awestruck by the relationship Nick has developed with Harry. He smiles at them both, unable to help it, and instinctively reaches beside him and rests his hand on Louis’ knee, squeezing as he turns towards him. “How long has that been a thing?” he asks, knowing Nick and Harry are no longer paying attention to him, rather to each other. “Like, a proper thing?”

Louis thinks for only a second before he replies, not mentioning the hand on his knee, as if he too is completely comfortable with the action. “A month now, officially,” he explains. “They were acting pretty much exactly the same a few weeks prior to the official “will you be my boyfriend, Grimmy” day though.”

“So Harry asked him then?” Greg asks, laughing slightly. He shouldn’t be laughing at that, he knows, but Louis is chuckling under his breath as well, leaning in closer to him until Louis has his face pressed into the front of Greg’s shirt, breath wavering with his laughter. Louis nods his head, and from everything, Greg assumes it’s a funny story. But maybe its a story for later; he can ask another day.

Greg leans into Louis’ touch, tightening his hold on his knee, and rubbing his thumb along his jeans. Louis smiles up at him from where he’s buried into his shirt, and his blue eyes sparkle in this way that Greg can only presume means that Louis is as comfortable as him. “It was probably both the best and worst days of both their lives,” Louis begins, but cuts himself off but sitting up again, leaning against the back of the seat now, rather than Greg’s front. “But they’re happy now, I think, really happy.” Louis’ voice is at a whisper, and he turns to look at Harry, who has found himself embraced by Nick, kissing softly at the join in his neck and shoulder. 

Nick looks across the booth at both of them, rubbing his hand over the small of Harry’s back. There is this sort of moment when Greg, Louis and Nick are just looking at one another and smiling at the way Harry is completely oblivious to everything around him, and instead completely focused on Nick’s neck.

But then Nick is talking, breaking the silence and asking, “when did you two become a thing, anyways?” and that snaps both Greg and Louis right from their thoughts because...what?

Greg coughs, and he can feel Louis stiffen as he flinches away from him. Louis runs his hands through his hair, his eyes darting over at Harry who has looked up from Nick’s neck, and caught Louis’ glance. It’s like they’re having a silence conversation - one Greg knows he’ll never be a part of. But that doesn’t hurt as much as he would have guessed.

“We’re not a thing,” Louis says rather blankly, and he’s sitting on his own side of their joined seat now, away from Greg. As if being in the same proximity would give the others an indication to something that was non-existent. Because Louis liked (loved?) Liam, not Greg. “We’re just friends, right Greg?”

Greg smiles, and looks at Harry, who has momentarily switched his glance to him. “Yeah,” he says, forcing a smile across his cheeks. “We’re just mates.”

Nick and Harry look at one another, and exchange this sort of look that makes Greg uncomfortable because he _doesn’t_ know what they’re saying. “Okay then,” Nick says, and he reaches forward for his sundae, taking a spoonful into his mouth, before piling more onto the spoon to feed to Harry. “Just friends.”

And yeah, Greg thinks, they’re just friends. 

 

\---

 

Things are pretty much the same over the next few weeks, and for the most of it, Greg is pretty sure that Louis has moved on from Liam. They don’t talk about it - not often enough for Greg to know _that_ much about what happened between Liam and him - and Greg doesn’t know Liam at all - but from what he sees and hears from Louis, his pretty certain that the heartbreak is nearing it’s end. 

Winter fast approaches, and before long, Greg finds the streets of London decorated with Christmas lights and sprinkled with snow. The shops grow busier, everyone out to buy gifts. But among all the havoc of the Christmas season, Greg can’t help but think it’s beautiful, all of it. From the children wearing mittens and throwing snowballs at one another, to the rows of tinsel hanging along the window seals of the cafe across the street. It’s all simply beautiful.

The work year had drawn to a close a week or so ago, Greg having asked for time off to spend with family and friends over the Christmas break, and before long, he realizes, that it’s almost been a full three months since him and Louis first met. Well, not met, but it’d been three months since they first became friends. It’s a nice feeling, really, knowing that Louis is still there for him after so long - and regardless of the few weeks they spent when things had gotten awkward because of Nick suggesting they were together, things had fallen back into place easily.

It’s snowing outside, the flakes settling on Greg’s windowsill, when Louis is over at his house just five nights before Christmas, and four nights before the younger mans birthday. They’re snuggled up under blankets on the couch, Greg’s heater blaring loudly in the corner, and two steaming cups of hot cocoa resting on the coffee table. 

Louis had appeared at his house unannounced earlier in the evening, wearing his onesie, and holding a bag of marshmallows with the hand that he hadn’t shoved into his pocket to keep warm. “It’s freezing,” he’d complained, throwing the marshmallows at Greg and hurrying inside. He’d kicked his ugg boots off in the doorway, leaving him barefoot (Greg didn’t understand how he could be so cold and _still_ not wear socks) and then he’d hurried into the kitchen and made them both their cocoa. 

It felt nice having someone who came over to his house spontaneously like Louis did. It was almost, in a way, as if Louis was a comfort blanket, something that would always be there.

Not that Greg was using Louis, definitely not, it was just nice knowing the other was going to be there for him, because they were friends (in fact nowadays Greg thinks he’d go as far to say Louis was one of his best friends).

Beside him, Greg can feel Louis shuffling to get his toes under the blanket. It’s cute, he thinks, and puts his arm along the back of the couch long enough for Louis’ enough to snuggle beneath it. Louis smiles up at him from beneath his lashes, blinking softly. “I’m still cold,” Louis says, but he doesn’t sound too fussed. 

Greg pulls Louis in closer to him, and takes half his own blanket from himself, and wraps it over Louis’ already-covered knees. “Better?” Greg asks, concern ridden through his voice. And Louis smiles at him again, softer, and nods wordlessly, turning back to whatever Christmas movie that had been playing on the tv when they’d turned it on.

And that’s how things stay right up until Louis’ birthday. They seem to spend every waking moment together: hanging out in town to buy presents for people, or just sitting back in either of their flats, watching tv and attempting to bake Christmas cookies (that one didn’t go too well -- turns out neither can cook to save a life). It’s nice really, and for a while, everything seems absolutely perfect. And in fact, it stays perfect. Because really, neither can imagine a world without one another now. 

They’ve become such friends and so close-knit, that trying to cope without one another becomes nearly impossible (they text, a lot). And day by day, Greg feels an unfamiliar warmth pooling more and more in his stomach. A warmth that continues to blossom, to the point where even the sight of the other male has his tummy twisting in knots.

He doesn’t know what it is (sure, he can guess, but that thought alone scares him) but really, if even the thought of Louis’ made him feel so good, what was the point in stopping it?

 

\---

 

When Louis’ birthday finally comes around, the twenty-one year old is a bundle of hyperactive joy that refuses to cease. It’s almost as if, Greg thinks, Louis has struck a quarter life crisis a few years early, and can’t believe he’s already hit the big two-one, so he spends the entire day acting like a five year old, trying to relive his youth.

Greg arrives at Louis’ flat early, holding a box of tea wrapped with a giant bow. Louis had asked him to spend the day with him the night before, saying he didn’t want to be alone before his birthday party that night. And of course Greg had agreed, despite it being Christmas Eve, because who wouldn’t want to spend the day with Louis? 

Greg smiles at him, handing Louis the tea when Louis sleepily opens the door for him. “That’s not the only present, promise,” Greg says. Louis smiles at the box, opening the door wider for Greg to come inside, and kisses Greg’s cheek in gratitude. Greg blushes instantly, and really, really hopes Louis doesn’t notice the way his cheeks are flaming. That's common now though, Louis kissing his cheek, but Greg knows it doesn't mean anything. It's just one of Louis' over-affectionate gestures. 

Louis' wearing nothing but his pyjama bottoms, which are rolled up at the bottom. His hair is ruffled, sticking out on awkward angles, and Greg can't help but think he's just gotten out of bed. And if the way Louis' voice is still harsh with sleep and his glasses are falling down his nose (it’s still too early for him to have put his contacts in) is anything to go by, he probably has just gotten up. "Well I'd hope there's more," Louis says, joking. "I expect a lot from you, being my best mate and all.”

Greg’s heart flips in his chest, doubling over. Louis smiles at him, pulling idly at the bow on his tea as they walk into his flat. “Don’t expect too much,” Greg murmurs, trying not to show just how happy he is because of Louis calling him his best friend. “I’m honestly the worst present buyer.”

They’re in Louis’ kitchen now, sitting down beside one another at the stainless-steel counter. “Don’t doubt yourself,” Louis laughs under his breath, pushing his glasses back onto his nose. "I'm sure you bought me something wonderful for my birthday, didn't you love?"

Greg holds back a bound of laughter, knowing full well that that his present is anything but wonderful. Because in truth, he’s a horrible present buyer, and buying something for Louis was a hundred times harder than he could ever imagine. And on top of that, he had to find Louis something for Christmas as well. And that, well yeah, that'd been hard.

They hang out at Louis flat all day, watching Christmas specials on tv and making sure he has at least some alcohol in the fridge. By the time it's reached six o'clock they're both sprawled across Louis' living room couch, laughing along at a Christmas episode of family guy (not that it’s that funny but earlier, when they'd been sorting through the drinks,, they'd had one or two "to test they were still in date". So they were just a little tipsy. And hey, cartoons were always funnier when you were tipsy.) 

Louis rolls his eyes in laughter, swinging a leg across Gregs lap. "Harry and the boys are coming around at seven," he says, still watching the TV. "Haz is bringing Nick, and Nick said he would bring music and chips."

Greg raises his eyebrows at Louis, curious. "Music and chips? How very high school of you." Louis swats his arm at Greg, but Greg blocks it by taking Louis' hand in his own and holding tight. "I'm not saying it’s lame, don't worry. But I thought you were having a big thing this year?"

Louis is quiet beside him, his leg twitching nervously across Greg's lap. "No, not that big. Just wanted some mates here, you know? I didn’t want to do nothing, but I didn't want to go crazy either. I just wanted...something."

Greg smiles at Louis regardless of the fact he isn’t watching him, because he’d been one of the friends Louis had wanted to invite over, and well, that felt good. He rests his hand down on Louis’ calf, rubbing the younger male gently through the jeans he’d changed into after lunch, and lets himself fall into Louis’ personal space, resting his head down on his shoulder. “They’ll be here soon then,” Greg whispers, and he feels Louis tilt his head and look his way. “Should we get up? Do something?”

Beneath him, he can feel Louis shuffling himself around on the couch, and for a moment Greg can’t tell what he’s doing; but then Louis is leaning back further into the couch, his hand resting on Greg’s hand that’s moved and rests on Louis’ thigh. “No,” Louis says. “We should just stay like this for a while.”

And they stay that way, leaning on one another, until the others arrive, and their moment is ruined by Niall ringing repetitively at the door bell, just to annoy them. (“You’d think he’d just use the spare key I gave him,” Louis mutters under his breath when he’s untangling himself from Greg’s body. “Bloody Nialler.”)

 

\---

 

It’s a long standing tradition at Louis’ parties, that when the clock strikes midnight, he’s to down an pint of beer, to celebrate his first full day of being an entire year older. Well, it hadn’t been a tradition until he turned nineteen, the year he met Niall. That was the first Christmas they’d all spent together, huddled by a fireplace in a random motel room somewhere between all their hometowns. How they decided to all leave their families on Christmas Eve, to drive to a gas-station-motel they’ll never really know, but whatever the reason had been (whether it was separation-anxiety - they had spent almost a year together afterall - or because they’d just been bored) it’d been a good one, because it became something they could do for themselves. From X-Factor, to touring, and then to recording, they’d never really done something for themselves as a band. So their Christmas Eve get togethers became a thing, something they would always have.

So when Niall stumbles drunkenly into the room hours after the boys first arrived, wobbling on both his feet and holding onto the handle a giant glass of beer, it wasn’t questioned what was about to happen. Well, not by anyone apart from Greg and Nick anyway.

Harry is shuffling excitedly on Nick’s lap, squirming in the one-person-couch they’re both piled into. Nick has his hand resting on Harry’s hip, pulling him in closer, and Harry’s tangled his legs over Nick’s, keeping himself from falling. It’s adorable, Greg thinks when he spots them both across the room from where he’s sitting beside Louis’ on the sofa. The way Nick and Harry are so absolutely calm around one another as if nothing else in the world matters is astounding, and for a moment Greg finds himself jealous of the relationship they’ve made. But then Zayn is sitting on the other side of Louis, Liam’s resting behind the couch, and Niall’s standing in front of Louis holding out the pint and he’s...well...confused. Because what’s so important about a beer, they’ve been drinking it all night haven’t they?

“One minute, Lou,” Liam says, glancing down at his phone before holding it out in front of Louis’ face, showing him the time. “Then you can go.” 

Louis smiles up at Liam, this little in-love grin, and for a moment Greg thinks that Louis might still feel something towards Liam. But he knows it’s his imagination, making up reasons why Louis still hasn’t fallen for him. Because really, why was so oblivious to his feelings?

Greg looks at Zayn, who is also watching a clock, or maybe a countdown? Zayn turns towards Harry, giving him the thumbs up, and then Niall’s shouting go and all the boys are leaning forward, watching Louis as he throws his head back and downs the drink, the beer dribbling down his chin. 

Greg looks at Nick, and Nick looks at him, and they both shrug simultaneously because _what the fuck just happened?_ Louis hands the now-empty glass back to Niall, turning and giving Greg an embarrassed little smile, his cheeks heating up. “Merry Christmas,” he says, as if trying to avoid the question of what just happened. And he leans in and kisses Greg’s cheek, his hand resting down on his thigh. Greg smiles, reaching a thumb up to wipe away the droplets of beer from Louis’ chin. Louis smiles at him, and Greg’s entirely sure he’s drunk now, but there’s something in his eye that says he still has control over what he’s doing. And that’s why Greg is so confused when Louis leans in, and presses a small kiss to the corner of Greg’s mouth, whispering. “I’m glad you came, Greg.”

Greg lets Louis pull away then, and watches as he follows Liam and Zayn into the kitchen to do whatever they do. Niall is sitting on the couch, texting away on his phone, and Harry and Nick are doing their own thing on the couch. And well, Greg is glad he came too. He just doesn’t know how to tell Louis that without sounding like an utter idiot.

 

\---

 

It’s only two days after Christmas when the One Direction boys fly out to the States for promotion over the New Years, meaning Louis leaves Greg alone in London for the biggest celebration of the year. Sure, he’s not alone exactly, but for some reason being without Louis feels like it. As if the younger male was the life support between Greg leaving his house, or staying inside with a blanket thrown across him and empty beer bottles on the coffee table. 

New Years Eve comes around, and Greg makes an effort by fixing his hair and throwing on a nice shirt before heading over to Nick’s New Years party. It’s loud when he gets there, and packed with people he’s pretty sure he’s never seen. But he makes the most of the free bar and ends up drunk and snogging some blond guy against the third toilet stall in the bathrooms. 

The next morning he wakes up in an unfamiliar bed with a pounding headache, and no memory of the night before. He leaves a note next to the guy who’s sleeping in the bed beside him. It’s small, just a _‘Gotta dash, thanks for the night -Greg :)’_ but doesn’t bother leaving a phone number since...well...he’s not exactly interested. Heck, he doesn’t even remember the night before, the note was just being polite. He’s home before the clock hits eight, and then he’s asleep on the couch, dead to the world until six that night. Not that it matters anyway, because Louis’ not home until Friday (it’s still Tuesday) and until then he doubts he’s going to be getting too many phone calls wondering where he’s run off too.

 

\---

 

Louis arrives obnoxiously early at Greg’s house on Saturday morning, claiming that he must have been ahead on time still, and thats why he was there before it was even 7 a.m. Greg groans under his breath, pulling up the boxers he’d tugged on when Louis had startled him awake, and walks back into the flat, expecting Louis to follow him.

“You do realize America time is behind us, right?” Greg mutters when they get into the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. He wipes some sleep out of his eyes and props himself up on the counter, running a hand through his bed-hair.

Louis takes a seat down at the table, swinging the jacket he’s taken off over the back of the chair. “That was just an excuse to come see you, stupid.” Louis smiles that smile that makes Greg’s head go fuzzy, and instantly Greg feels lightheaded. Because it’s been weeks since he’s seen Louis, and god, he hadn’t realized how much he missed him until right now.

“Could have just come over later,” Greg complains, but still, he’s buzzing with the news Louis had wanted to see him so badly. He looks up at the other, his eyes beaming. Louis is playing with his fingers, waiting for the kettle as well, and tugging on the sleeves of the long sleeve shirt he is wearing. Greg’s lips tilt into a grin at the sight. “But still, I’m glad you came over.”

“Me too,” Louis says.

The kettle rings to a boil, startling Greg. “Plus, Tomlinson, I expect good souvenirs from the States.” 

Louis looks up quickly, guilt ridden across his face. “But I- I didn’t get anything- ”

Greg cuts Louis off quickly, standing up. “Louis, love, I was kidding,” he explains, laughing lightly. “Besides, you’re going back to America soon anyway. Maybe you can find me something then.” And then he winks, letting Louis know he was kidding this time. 

Louis smiles at him, nibbling softly at his own bottom lip. “Okay, yeah, I’ll get you something,” Louis says. Because regardless if Greg was joking or not, Louis just wants to see him happy. Really.

 

\---

 

Louis stays over until dinner that night, doing nothing but looking through blurry photos Louis had taken of Harry and Zayn in Times Square in NYC, and the pictures of Niall hanging out with Mickey Mouse when they’d all gone to Disneyland in LA. Between all the photos of Louis and the boys, there are some of Louis and Eleanor standing together, smiling, or hanging out in their hotel room, and for a moment, Greg is confused, because Eleanor was just a cover right? 

But Louis is quick to notice his confusion, explaining how Eleanor had been flown out to see him, and get some photos taken. “We’re friends anyway,” Louis says, sounding almost guilty. “Like, I don’t hate her or anything. She’s my friend.”

Greg leans into Louis’ side, giving his shoulder a quick kiss. “I know you’re not a jerk Louis,” he says earnestly. “I promise you don’t have to prove yourself to me.”

Louis looks at Greg, his eyes sparkling with something he’s never seen before. Hope, maybe? “Thanks,” he says softly. “Really.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

It’s cold in the room, despite the heater in the corner, and they both huddle together tightly beneath the blanket Greg had pulled out from the back of his closet (it was one Greg’s Great Aunt had crocheted for him when he was moving out of home, saying “how on earth will you be able to survive? Here, have this so you don’t pay for heating” or something similar. And yeah, Greg still had paid for heating, but the blanket was nice also). 

Louis pulls the blanket up beneath his chin, holding onto the corners like a child would. His eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, the only light being the lamp in the corner and the flickers of the TV. Greg pulls a hand in from beneath his blanket and swats Louis hands so they loosen their grip, and he takes a corner for himself, cuddling into Louis’ side and turning to watch the TV.

“You look like a mushroom right now,” Greg says without thinking. Louis has a beanie pulled down over his hair, and he’s pulling off his adorable pout with puppy eyes to match. “Definitely, just like a mushroom.”

“Mushroom?” Louis questions, raising his eyebrows. But then he blows his cheeks so they’re full of air, and sinks down to pull of his best impersonation of a mushroom. Greg instantly bursts into a fit of giggles, burying his face into the crook of Louis’ neck. 

Louis rests his hand on Greg’s back, his fingers trailing the slither of skin that was showing from beneath his t-shirt. Greg sighs heavily when he can finally breath again, raising his head but keeping his body flush with Louis’. “You looked like a mushroom, yeah,” he says, and smiles. 

They’re impossibly close, Greg’s breath hitting against Louis’ jawbone, and Louis is only pulling Greg in closer as he runs his hand along the span of the other’s back. And it’s only when Greg finds his own hand resting down on Louis’ stomach, rubbing softly across the softer skin that lays there, that he realizes just how close he is, and just how much closer he _could_ be if he only tilted his head forward a little bit...

Louis sucks in a breath, and Greg feels it beneath his hand, the way Louis’ stomach tenses and flexes with his staggered breathing. “I think I should go,” Louis mumbles softly, but his voice is more afraid than anything. He flinches away and quickly pulls his hand away from Greg’s back, recoiling.

“Did I do something?” Greg asks confused. “I mean, if I did something to offend you, Louis, you can tell me. I just want to know- ”

Louis pulls away completely this time and stands up by the end of the couch, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt like he always does when he’s nervous. “You did nothing Greg, I swear. I just- I have to go. Get out of here. I’ll- I’ll come around later, okay?”

Greg sits quietly, watching as Louis leaves through the front door, not bothering to turn around and wave goodbye. Usually there’s a pause, a glint of a smile, or a kiss on the cheek before Louis leaves - but this time, nothing. It hurts, it really does when he doesn’t get those usual gestures. And Greg can’t exactly blame himself for going straight to bed after that. Because what fun is TV and cuddles under the blanket if you’ve got no one to cuddle with.

 

\---

 

Louis never exactly explains to Greg what happened that night, avoiding the subject at all costs. Even the slightest hint to what might or might not have happened makes him awkward, his face flushing red. It’s an awkward topic, one both decide to avoid, and that’s is what leads to Louis standing at Harry’s door four o’clock in the afternoon, worry plastered all over his face, despite his efforts to look completely normal.

“Hey,” Harry says, answering the doorbell with a tea towel thrown across his shoulder, and a ladle hanging from his hand, dripping tomato sauce all over the wooden floor. “What’s up Lou?”

Louis shuffles nervously in the doorway for a moment. “I was hoping that we could...talk,” Louis mumbles hopefully, rejoicing when Harry pulls the door open, and lets him inside. 

They go into the kitchen, where Harry heads straight for the stove, turning the heat down, and taking a spoonful of the sauce from the pan. “Here,” he says, rushing over to Louis, his hand cupped beneath the ladle to catch the dripping sauce. “Does this taste alright? Too salty?”

Louis’ slurps the sauce from the spoon, licking across his lips deliciously. “Tastes perfect Harry,” he promises, catching the dripping sauce with his tongue because _god, it’s delicious._ “How on earth did I get such a brilliant cook for a best friend?”

Harry blushes, resting the spoon beside the sink. “Who knows? Lucky pick?” He goes back over to the stove, resting the lid over the pan, before taking a seat across the bench from Louis, leaning in. “So what’s wrong? Something’s up, I can tell.”

Louis throws his head down onto his crossed arms, sighing. He considers telling Harry about the almost-kiss (was it even almost a kiss? Maybe Greg wasn’t going to kiss him at all - oh god, what if Greg wasn’t even going to kiss him?!) but then he looks up at Harry through his eyelashes, and Harry just looks so _happy_ that he can’t bear to bring his burden on him. So instead, he makes up something stupid and ends up saying-

“Do you maybe want to throw Zayn a surprise party with me next week?” And _wow_ , where did that come from? How was he supposed to organize a surprise birthday party in like six days and get people there and buy alcohol, and find a venue. But even with all the stress, and drama, maybe he could do it? Hey, it would be something to get his mind off Greg-

“Sorry mate, can’t,” Harry says, and that snaps him from his thoughts. _Well there’s that idea gone._ “Nick and I are going away for Zayn’s birthday weekend, so I think Li said he’d do a party or something. At a club. I honestly have no idea. All I know is that Nick bought myself and I tickets to Switzerland next Friday for four nights, and I’m not going to be here.” 

Harry has this little smile across his face, and he’s gazing off, clearly thinking about Nick again. Louis sighs under his breath, and yes, this is the moment he should be telling Harry all about Greg, and tell him just how much help he needs because he _doesn’t_ know what he’s doing. But it just...it doesn’t feel right. Something is off. So he doesn’t tell him, and instead they hang out for the rest of the afternoon. But Nick is coming over for a dinner date that night (hence the pasta sauce), so he keeps his eye on the clock, making sure not to overstay his welcome.

Louis leaves when Harry starts to curse under his breath about the fact he still hasn’t showered and still needs to cook the pasta. It’s nice seeing Harry so happy, so coupley, and so absolutely smitten with Nick. Louis has a smile on his face the entire drive home, despite the fact he didn’t clear up any of the Greg-surrounding-problems, but he thinks maybe it’s because he has just spent some quality time with Harry again, and Harry always makes things better.

It’s not until he’s laying in bed that night, checking his phone and realizing that Greg still hasn’t messaged him goodnight like usual, that he has a slight panic attack. He knows Greg is just giving him space, he _knows_. But Harry has Nick and Liam has random drunken hookups and Louis realizes he has nothing. Nobody. Sure, he’s got friends. Lots of them. But unlike his other band mates, he has no one intimate. It’s then he realizes that he’s probably just ruined whatever chance he had to change that, and that really sucks.

 

\---

 

When Greg finally sees Louis again, it’s been almost a week. It kills him to admit it, but going that long without seeing Louis really, really pains him. But no matter how much it hurt him not to see Louis, he knew seeing him and being rejected again would be worse. So not seeing Louis is just something he copes with. Even if it kills him on the inside. 

Greg takes a look around the room (balloons scattered across the ceiling, people grinding up against one another on the dance floor, and empty bottles laying across every table and counter top) and realizes that parties haven’t really changed much since he could still call himself a teenager. Sure, he wasn’t old, but he wasn’t twenty anymore (even if he did still act like a kid). He takes a sip of his drink, throwing his head back, and going over to the bar, ordering another beer. 

It’s Zayn’s party, one Liam had apparently organized according to the text/email he’d received a few days prior, telling him to be there or get lost. At first he’s confused, because he’s not exactly friends with any of Zayn’s friends apart from Louis. So he thinks maybe he’s invited because of Nick. But then it turns out Nick is holidaying around the Netherlands or Sweden or somewhere with Harry and well... he’s confused. Because Louis still isn’t talking to him. So who would have invited him?

“I see you came!” The music is loud, but Greg still catches the shout from behind him. He turns, seeing Zayn who is holding some drink in his hand, and Perrie trailing a step or two behind him, chatting away with Jade. 

Him and Zayn have hung out a few times. Once or twice had drinks after an awards show they’d both been at. A few nights out at Lou’s. He knows more about Zayn that is probably acceptable for a fully grown man. Sure, a sixteen year old girl knowing the angle Zayn likes to lie when he’s asleep could be taken as normal...but for Greg to know? Yeah, that’s a bit strange. He blames Louis.

Greg nods his head, taking a swig of his drink. “Well I was invited,” Greg says, putting his beer back down. “Happy birthday mate!”

Zayn thanks him, sliding into the stool beside him. “Louis wanted me to make sure you were here, by the way,” Zayn adds when they’re both half way through their drink. Zayn says passing hello’s to people that walk by, but he stays in his seat. “Something about you not having spoken to him in a while, and him wanting you to be here.”

Greg nods and rubs a hand over his face. “Yeah. ‘Spose I haven’t seen him,” he says and sighs. “I don’t know. He didn’t call me. I didn’t call him. It was awkward last time we were together...I don’t know.”

“Harry told me that you guys weren’t talking,” Zayn says, and watches the way Greg’s eyes open at the realization that Louis’ been talking about him. Zayn shakes his head, chuckling under his breath. “Don’t worry. Louis hasn’t been gossiping about you or sharing any secrets. Harry just knows when somethings up...”

“...And somethings up,” Greg finishes, taking a swig of his fresh beer bottle. “Yeah.”

“Exactly,” Zayn agrees, swiveling himself and looking out across the room. He spots Niall and gives a wave, and then Niall is running across the room to them, his drink flying from his glass. He’s clearly already had one too many to drink.

“Zayny! Greg!” he shouts, and Greg laughs at the way Niall’s voice breaks to a higher octave when he’s had something to drink. He jumps onto Zayn, pecking his cheeks with two kisses, and hugs tightly around his waist. “Happy birthday!” 

Zayn titters under his breath, and Niall hugs tighter around his waist before breaking away from the hug he’d tackled Zayn with. “Louis’ sulking in the corner with no friends and a pink cocktail if you’re looking for him,” Niall adds, looking at Greg. His face is flushed red, his eyes looking wide and alert when he talks. 

Greg opens his mouth to say something, because really, he doesn’t feel like going over and talking to Louis right now. Not at a party. He doesn’t want to see Louis mad at him. Not now. But Niall slaps his shoulder, urging him to go. “Just say ‘ello, doubt he’ll be mad over you saying that,” Niall says, giving Greg one last shove from his chair, and sitting on the stool himself. “Just go.”

Greg sighs, picking up his beer and giving Zayn a small nod as he wanders away, through the party to where he can see Louis leaning up against the back wall, swirling his very pink, and very girly cocktail in his hand. Greg shuffles nervously for a moment, hoping to catch Louis’ attention. He’s standing in front of him, and for the first time in a week, he gets a proper look at Louis. Not just pictures in newspaper or magazine articles. 

“Hey,” he says, taking a sip from his drink and slouching against the wall when Louis finally spots him out of the corner of his eye. Louis’ jaw has gone slightly slack, but his eyes are shining, almost as if he’s happy to see Greg after going a week without. “You alright, Lou?”

Louis’ silent a moment, raising his small straw to his lips and taking a sip. “Y’know...All my friends are getting with someone. Hooking up, being coupley, whatever. They’ve got someone” Greg goes stiff, because wow, if anything, he wasn’t expecting Louis to say that right now. He sounds a bit drunk, almost, and Greg assumes the cocktail is getting to his head. But he nods silently, letting Louis continue. “Like Harry and Nick. Fuck. They’re off in Switzerland. And Zayn’s got Perrie. And Niall is going to clubs and then...there’s me. Alone. As usual.”

He looks down at the remainder at his drink before throwing his head back and sculling it. “I just, I thought things would finally be different. I’d have Liam, heck, I’d have anyone. I just wanted someone and I got no one.” Louis sucks in a sharp breath, his words beginning to slur together. “I just...I’m just Louis. No plus one. Just me.”

Greg just stands there - stares at him. Louis’ mind seems to be somewhere else and he’s just staring absentmindedly through the crowds of people at the party. He sounds so outraged at his life, so unfocused, that Greg can’t begin to figure out Louis’ mind. It makes Greg feel uneasy, watching Louis as he tries to drink from his empty glass and mumbles about Harry and Nick’s perfect fucking romance, but there’s nothing he can do. Not when Greg was obviously nothing more than a friend to Louis. Nothing more than a buddy on a lonely afternoon.

“You,” Greg says eventually, but he struggles with the words for a moment, “Are the biggest fucking idiot I know.”

Louis raises his eyebrows in question, giving Greg this sort of side glance that generally means _what on earth are you talking about?_

“You’re not alone, you twat,” Greg says, because he can’t think of anything else to say. He’s never seen Louis like this before, apart from maybe when Liam had first let him down. But now he’s more frustrated than anything, not completely broken. It’s like he _craves_ someone to be with. As if he’s given up all hope on actually finding the person who he’ll eventually settle down with. 

Louis flicks his hair out of his eyes, shrugging. “I am though. Look at me, over here, by myself.”

“You’re not alone,” Greg said flatly.

Louis looks up from beneath his fringe, his eyebrows furrowed. “I am though, look at me.” 

But Greg doesn’t look. He doesn’t need to. He kisses him.

It’s soft, his lips slotting in perfectly against Louis’, cutting off his words. Louis tastes of strawberries and musk, a tinge of cigarette smoke, and Greg can feel Louis’ breath stutter beneath his hands clenched in Louis’ shirt when he lets his tongue lick across the outline of his lips. 

He’s light at first, gentle but meaningful, not wanting to rush Louis into anything he isn’t ready for. But then Louis begins to loop his arms around Greg’s waist and pull him in closer, and Greg thinks that maybe the kiss is okay.

Louis’ hands are resting on his hips, fingers teasing the skin just beneath the waistband of his jeans. He pulls Greg in that little bit closer, their hips nudging up against one another’s as Greg makes an appreciative little whimper in the back of his throat, reminding himself of just how long he’s wanted this. How long he’s wanted nothing more than to be like this with Louis. He lowers his lips against Louis’, kissing him deeply now. Their tongues press against one another, earning small moans of satisfaction from the back of Louis’ throat. It’s all tongue and heat, breathless moans into one another's mouths, and Greg is pretty sure that it’s one of the best kisses he’s ever had.

They lose track of everything, from where they are, to whose leg is whose, and when they finally break apart there is a small trail of spit connects their mouths, their faces flushed red and their lips bruised. 

Louis’ hands are still resting on his hips, and Greg is still clutching on tightly to the front of Louis’ shirt - as though if he let go, he’d be waking up home, hard and alone, after one hell of a good dream.

Greg looks at Louis tentatively; at the crease that joins his eyebrows together; the way the tips of his ears are pink. Louis smirks at him, lifting a hand to wipe the shine of his own spit from Greg’s lip. His thumb lingers a little too long, and Greg takes that as a good sign.

“Want to get out of here?” he asks, but Louis is already taking him by his hand to the exit, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone on their way out.

 

\---

 

When Greg finally pushes a finger into Louis later that night, he’s pretty sure he’s never seen someone who can look so fucked out from fingers alone. Louis grips tightly onto the sheets, his toes curling as Greg twists his finger and brushes up against his prostate. Louis arches off the bed, moaning out Greg’s name between small curses, and grips on tightly to the sheets. “Greg, please,” he whimpers, his voice falling short when Greg pushes a second finger in beside the first. 

Greg smirks, laying himself down and kissing the tip of Louis’ cock, earning an anything-but-patient thrust of Louis’ hips. “Sorry,” he says, angling his fingers so Louis body tightens, pushing himself down on the fingers. He turns, seeing the bottle of lube and a condom laying on the sheets beside them, and feels his dick twitch in his trousers. He smiles down at Louis, whose eyes are barely keeping open and whose mouth has fallen into an oval shape, and reaches for the condom.

 

\---

 

It’s the sound of Louis snoring quietly beside him that wakes Greg the next morning; Louis’ breath warm on his cheek. The sun hasn’t risen from above the horizon, only the first signs of sunrise sneaking between the open gap in Louis’ curtains. Greg lays there for a moment, watching Louis. The way he dribbles in his sleep and there are still signs of Greg’s come dried over the dusting of hair that’s on his chest. Greg smiles, his hand making it’s way and running over Louis’ soft skin, wiping away the traces of sex, and making himself a promise to help Louis clean up before he leaves.

Louis’ mumbles in his sleep, rolling himself until his face is buried into the pillows, and his ankle is hooked around Greg’s. Greg smiles knowingly, the sight of Louis making his stomach flutter with something he’s never really felt this powerful until right in this moment. Because Louis looks so beautiful when he’s sleeping. His eyelids flutter as he dreams and he murmurs softly. Greg can’t help but think it’s beautiful, because it is, it’s absolutely endearing. 

He lets his hand run through Louis’ hair softly, and Louis begins to stir in his sleep, trying to blink himself awake. “Hmpghh,” Louis mumbles tiredly. “‘azza?”

Something heavy drops in Greg’s chest; Louis can’t remember him. He sweeps Louis’ fringe away from his eyes, leaning down and presses his lips softly against Louis’ forehead. “No Lou. It’s me. It’s Greg.”

And then Louis is scrambling out of bed, his eyes wide and his body very, very naked. His mouth opens and closes for a moment, like a fish out of water, and then he’s pulling on the ends of his hair, looking down at his feet. “You need to go,” Louis says quickly, and for a moment Greg thinks that Louis is crying. Louis looks up, his hands still in his hair, and Greg’s heart drops when he realizes that Louis _is_ crying. “Please, Greg, just leave.”

Greg blinks twice, confused. “What?”

“Get out, please,” Louis repeats, his voice hoarse. “Just leave Greg.”

Greg pulls himself out of bed, looking around the room finding his clothes (his trousers are thrown across a lamp in the corner, his shirt hanging over the side of Louis’ armchair). When he finally changes, Louis has pulled on a pair of boxers as well, and there’s a tense moment when they just look at one another.

“What did I do?” Greg wonders aloud weakly, trying to reach forward to grab Louis’ arm, but the other just pulls away. 

Louis mumbles under his breath, sitting down on the end of his bed and drops his head into his hands. “I don’t need someone else just using me,” he says, and for the first time he doesn’t sound like he’s about to fall apart. “I don’t want another Liam. So bloody hell Greg, just leave it, and get out.”

Greg goes to say something, but Louis is already standing up and walking into his ensuite, locking himself inside and leaving Greg standing in the middle of his room.

Greg sighs out brokenly, picking up his jacket from the floor, and leaving the room. Well fuck, he thinks, that went perfectly.

 

\---

 

Greg drops himself down on the seat beside Nick on a Friday afternoon, an hour before his shift starts. “So, was Switzerland any good?”

Nick turns and smiles at him, a sort of embarrassed smile means _yeah, it was bloody fantastic_. “Brilliant,” Nick finally settles on. “It was incredible, yeah.”

Greg nods his head and takes a sip of the coffee he’d picked up on the way in. It’s a bit colder than he’d like, and not exactly strong enough, but he deals with it, gritting his teeth through the almost sour taste. “Yeah? What’d you do?”

Nick turns into Greg excitedly and begins talking through his four-day trip away. About Harry skiing down the mountain and falling over himself; about the hot cocoa incident in their cabin; about how nobody recognized them in the entire village, and how because of that they were able to walk around holding hands and cuddling in close when they went out for dinner. Greg gets lost in thought listening, a small smile settling across his lips as he hears just how good being with Harry makes Nick feel.

He’s so lost in thought listening to Nick, that he almost (almost being the operative word) doesn’t see the newspaper sitting folded beneath Nick’s feet on the coffee table. He has to take a double glance down at the headline, because really, it’s not every day he sees (or thinks he sees) his own name plastered across the leading headline...but apparently it is his name, because when he looks again, it’s still there. Greg James. Written in capitals right besides Louis’.

He splutters his coffee, coughing slightly, and Nick gives him this concerned sort of look, before following Greg’s gaze to where it’s still resting on the newspaper.

Louis Tomlinson seen lip-locked with radio presenter Greg James

Nick’s mouth opens and closes, trying to find the right words to explain whatever it is he obviously hasn’t managed to say just yet. Greg’s speechless, but reaches frantically for the paper, knocking Nick’s feet from the table. 

“What the fuck?” He’s finally opened the newspaper, and flicked through to page 3 where the article is going on and on about whether or not Louis is gay, and what he’s doing making out with a radio host at a birthday party. His face flushes read when he takes a proper look at the picture that’s going alongside the article, and he drops the paper to his lap, burying his face into his hands. 

“You alright mate?” Nick asks, taking a second look at the newspaper, and smirking at the picture of Louis pressed up against Greg at the party. “It’s...big. Seeing yourself in the news like that.”

Greg groans, unable to look Nick in the eyes. “They think he’s cheating on Eleanor with me,” he explains, holding the article up so Nick can read it. 

Nick bats the paper away. “Already read it,” he says, watching as Greg’s eyes go wide in a _you didn’t bother to tell me?_ kind of way. “It’s not a big deal mate, really, they have things about me and Haz all the time. It’ll blow over.”

Greg groans again, tugging on the ends of his hair before sinking back in his seat in defeat. “At least you and Harry are actually together. Not just a drunken hook-up at the club.”

Nick’s gapes. “You and Lou aren’t...?”

“No, we’re not fucking,” Greg finishes. He takes another sip of his coffee, now completely numb to how cold it’s gotten. “Louis kicked me out the next morning. He must have been drunk or something...I don’t know. Said how I was just using him like everyone else. I just...” he sucks in a deep breath, burying his head in his hands again. “I care about him Nick. I wasn’t just being a jerk to him. I genuinely wanted him to feel like he had someone when he was with me...”

“He knows,” Nick says, and he’s putting the newspaper back on the coffee table. “Believe me. He knows you care about him.”

Greg sighs. “How do you know that? How can I trust that?”

“Because, I know things,” Nick smirks, and rests his hand down on Greg’s shoulder. “Plus, Harry may or may not have hinted to the fact that Louis looks at you like he looks at no one else while we were away. Harry knows that Louis cares about you, Greg, you’ve just got to prove to him that you care about him as well. Make him believe it.”

And funnily enough, Greg trusts him. 

 

\---

 

Somehow, Greg’s big affectionate gesture begins with him standing outside next to Harry. How that happens, Greg can’t really remember, but all he knows is somehow Harry weaseled his way into the plan (through Nick, not Greg, obviously) and well, here he is, wearing a jacket so big that Greg doesn’t know how he can even move, and a matching scarf and beanie. Greg evnies him, having only a sweater on himself. It’s freezing out; snow up to their ankles. Harry smiles up at him excitedly.

“Okay, so you know what you’ve got to do right?” Greg asks and creases his eyebrows, because this _cannot_ go wrong. Not now, after all this time.

Harry nods giddily at him. “I’ve just gotta call Lou, and make sure he comes outside.” Harry tugs on the ends of his scarf, looping the tassels between his fingers. “And then make sure you get your big kiss and Lou gets his prince charming.”

Greg groans a bit, turning away from Harry and looking nervously up at Louis’ lounge room window. He knows he’s home; he maybe sat in his car outside his flat for two hours waiting (it’s not stalking if it’s for a good reason, right?) but he does definitely know he’s home. The lights are on, but the curtains are mostly closed. And that’s good, Greg thinks, because at least Louis can’t see him before he’s even got his chance to fix things. 

“Okay then,” Greg says and shakes his head as he turns back to Harry. “Get him to come down here.”

Harry’s face splits open into a bright smile, and he pulls his hands out of his pocket and begins calling Louis’ number. 

“Hey Lou it’s Haz... Yeah I’m good... No, I haven’t... This weekends good... Maybe after lunch though because I’ve got--”

Greg snaps his fingers impatiently in front of Harry’s eyes, urging him to hurry up and continue this _very_ important conversation later. Harry gives Greg this _shit, i’m_ sorry look before switching the hand his phone is in, and focusing again on the phone. 

“Yeah, three on Saturday’s great. Hey Lou, listen.. Yeah fine.. But could you come outside a second?...” Greg’s heart begins racing, his chest heaving with worry. “No... I’m just sitting in the car I’ve got to show you something... Yeah cool... Put a jacket on it’s freezing... Okay see you in a tick.”

Harry smiles at Greg when he hangs up his phone. “See, I told you I’d get him to come outside.” 

“Thank you,” Greg says appreciatively, running his hands up and down his arms that are getting colder and colder by the second. “I really appreciate this Harry.”

“No problem, honestly. I’m sure I’ll find a way for you to repay me.” Greg smiles nervously at that, knowing it could be anything, and shouts out thanks to Harry once more to Harry as the other boy heads off to leave.

Then it’s a minute or two of him standing alone and nervous in the snow, kicking around the lumps of ice with his feet. He can feel the water dripping into his canvas shoes, and really hates whoever owns the building for not hiring someone to shovel the snow every morning - but hey, what are you gonna do? 

His head snaps up when he hears a door open and close in front of him, and there’s Louis, standing there all rugged up in a jacket and scarf like Harry but somehow looking more... cuddly? More cute? More gorgeous?

Louis doesn’t move past the doormat, but Greg doesn’t really notice. All he notices is that it’s _Louis._

“So,” Louis says eventually. “I’m guessing Harry isn’t actually here.”

“He was... Just not anymore. I don’t actually know why he came. To be honest he’s probably hiding in the bushes watching us at the moment.”

Louis looks confused, but doesn’t question it. “Why are you here Greg?”

Greg’s teeth chatter slightly. “I needed to talk to you.”

“I think I made it pretty clear I didn’t want to,” Louis says, turning around to go back inside. 

But Greg interrupts him, taking a step forward and reaching for Louis’ arm. “No, please, hear this out,” he practically begs, and surprisingly Louis stops and says (barely), “fine.”

“Look... Louis. I get that you’ve had a shit time with relationships. I do. I get that you’ve never been yourself for the public, and that when you try to be yourself with your friends you get rejected. Liam was a jerk, your management is a bigger jerk. I get this Louis,” Greg says, and he has to pull his arms around his body now to stop himself shaking because it just keeps getting colder, as if the world is trying to spite him. 

“I just... I don’t understand how you think I am going to turn out to be a jerk as well. Because Louis... waking up that morning and being kicked out... I felt horrible. I felt like I’d lost the most important person in my life. Losing you Louis, it hurt. More than I could possibly explain. Because I think... I think I’m falling for you? Or I’ve fallen. I’m not really sure.” 

Greg stutters a bit, trying to find the right words. It’s hard, because Louis is standing there all silent and perfect, and he just can’t figure out how to say that he wants Louis, even with his bumps and bruises.

“Just please... don’t run away again. Let me try, Louis. Let me try and be something more than a friend to you... Let me--”

“Be my boyfriend?” Louis cuts in, his voice so incredibly soft that it’s barely audible. Greg’s silent, and takes a step in closer to Louis, holding onto his forearm just a little bit. From here, he can see the tears that are beginning to build in Louis’ eyes, and it breaks his heart just a little bit. 

“Yeah,” Greg whispers, looking down at Louis and giving him this sort of half yes-I-like-you-be-mine sort of smile. “Do you want to be my boyfriend Louis?”

Louis’ quiet for a moment, gazing past Greg and out across the street. He raises his middle finger into the distance, where Harry’s across the street, he presumes, still watching on. 

Louis’ lips perk up into a smile that Greg feels as though he hasn’t seen in forever when he finally looks back up at Greg. “Yes,” he whispers, and his voice is so small and hesitant that Greg was almost uncertain that he’d hear it. But then Louis is taking Greg’s hand from his forearm and tangling their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over the top of Greg’s hand and he’s positive, he’s sure he heard it.

And that, Greg thinks, is just about the best feeling in the world. Until, of course, Louis stands up on his tippy toes and rests his free hand on Greg’s shoulder. “Yes, you can be my boyfriend,” he repeats, before leaning in and kissing Greg’s lips softly.

Because _that_ is the best feeling in the world.


End file.
